Burning the Ashes of My Heart
by bs13
Summary: AU. Alfea and Red Fountain are mental institutions, and the Winx and the Specialists are some of the patients there. Though mentally ill, they are all trying to get their lives back on track. Can they show each other that love doesn't have to be sane? Or will they always be afraid to trust again?


**So I have never written for Winx Club before, so be assured: I don't own Winx Club. And to be clear, if you have any disorder mentioned here and I am writing it wrong, feel free to slap me in the face. I don't know what I'm writing but I hope you guys will like it!**

_Everything was stained red._

_"Musa, stop it, don't go near her." A voice called, male and afraid._

_Musa didn't listen._

_"Mommy," Musa whispered. "Mommy! Wake up, Mommy, wake up. Don't leave me. Please, _please_, don't leave me."_

_Her mother was dead, there was no question to it. Musa knew that, but she didn't want to believe it. Her mother's pale face was even paler. Her lips much darker. Her eyes rolled to their whites, though still open, as though she had been looking for something. Musa felt tears begin to fall._

_"Musa." The male voice belonged to her dad. His hand went to her shoulder, shaking slightly. He was crying like Musa was, maybe even harder._

_"Mommy!" Musa screamed. She began to shake her, not caring that her fingers were getting sticky with her mother's blood. "MOMMY!"_

_"Musa!" Her dad's voice was now frantic as he tried to drag his daughter away from her dead mother. "Stop it, she's gone."_

_"She's not gone," Musa's voice trembled. "Mommy, wake up. Please. I need you."_

_Musa touched her hand, not noticing how she stained it. It was cold. _Deathly_ cold._

_She cried harder._

_"Come on. We need to get out of here. The nice people here will take her." Her dad said softly, taking his daughter's bloody hand without hesitation. Musa jerked her hand away, not caring if the policemen in the room saw her make a scene._

_"No." Musa said firmly. "They can't touch her. She's okay."_

_"She's dead, Musa!" Her dad sounded angry. "She's not coming back!"_

_"I hate you!" Musa yelled, tears falling into her open mouth as she sobbed, the salty flavor almost making her choke. "She's okay. She's alive!"_

_"She's dead. Now come on and clean all of her blood off of you!" Her dad was now crying harder that Musa was. "She's dead." He slammed his fist down on something. A table maybe. Musa didn't care to look._

_Musa stared down at her mother one last time, her father's words sinking in. The woman she loved. The woman who she looked up to._

_Gone._

_"Mommy," Musa managed to mumble one last time before she fell to the floor, her knees shaking and her stomach lurching. Her eyes closed as her forehead touched the floor._

_But she didn't see black. She saw red._

* * *

Musa was now sixteen years old. It had been eleven years since her mother died. She had developed PTSD (or post traumatic stress disorder), a metal disorder that made her remember very vividly the day her mother died, as well as trigger many emotional reactions to anything that reminded her of that day.

Musa was being moved to Alfea, an institution for the mentally ill.

But she didn't want to be there at all.

"Why don't you want me?" Musa asked as her dad helped her unload her things from the taxi cab they had come in. She wasn't yelling it accusingly; inseatd, the only emotion laced into her voice was hurt.

"Of course I want you," Her dad said kindly. "I just can't take care of you forever, and my job really needs me right now. I can't bring you on my trip and I can't leave you alone."

"I won't like it here. I'm not crazy!" Musa pleaded.

"Of course you're not," Her dad studied his daughter with a mixture of fondness and sadness. "Be tough, alright? Be the strong little girl I know I raised."

He was kidding himself, of course. He never raised a strong little girl. Musa may have been tough during the days when she wasn't remembering her mother's death, but the days she did, she was an emotional mess.

"I'll stay strong, Daddy," Musa nodded, and she lifted her face high proudly.

Her dad hugged her quickly, feeling his eyes tear up. She hadn't called him daddy in years.

"Be good, okay?" He spoke to her as if she were going to her first day of kindergarden. He kissed her forehead, gave her another quick hug, and moved away, giving her a chaste smile before entering the yellow cab. Musa waved weakly as the cab drove off. Her father waved back, but Musa didn't feel satisfied at their parting.

She hadn't even said the words "good-bye" to him.

Musa's eyes trailed over the tall gate that she stood before. Past it was the giant building she had to live in from now on.

"Hello. You must be Musa." An orderly female voice said. Musa turned and faced a tall, brunette woman with pinched face features and square glasses on her nose. The woman had pushed open the large gate and walked over to Musa. "I'm Miss Griselda and I'll be showing you to your room."

Musa let her eyes fall on the (oddly) pink massive stone building as the gate was now opened. Musa's fingers wound themselves on her bag handle tightly as she noticed all the security guards, tensing ever so slightly. The place looked cheerful, as the bricks the institution was made of were such a light, happy pink and the people lingering on the wide, healthy, green lawn looked kind of happy too.

But already she missed home. And she didn't even _like_ being home.

Miss Griselda led her past the guards and the other girls and into the large building. Inside the air was cold and smelt of disinfectant. Musa felt her stomach lurch at the smell. The place was large and welcoming, but the smell made her forget the feel of the place right away.

"How long will I stay here?" Musa asked. Miss Griselda looked at her from under her glasses, not expecting the question.

"As long as needed," Miss Griselda's tone softened the tiniest bit, as though she felt bad for Musa. "This way, please." She led her down a long, thin corridor, where doors lined the walls. Musa watched them all pass by: all of them a pale, lavender purple and equal in size.

They stopped before one of those doors. Miss Griselda opened it with a key before stepping aside as a sign to let Musa in.

Musa took in the scene: two beds, both fair in size, but with plain beige bedspreads. A dresser was situated beside each bed, along with a small mirror. The walls were the same lavender as the door and the floor, covered in carpet, was a dim brown.

"Why two beds?" Musa asked, choosing a bed from the equally dived room and setting her things down.

"You're to have a roomate, of course. We have too many young ladies to allow anyone to have a room to themselves. Unless, of course, it's needed." Miss Griselda said. "Speaking of that, your roomate shall arrive shortly when I escort her."

"Are there only girls here?" Musa asked, remembering how the lawn had only been dotted with girls.

"Yes. There will be a talk at dinner explaining everything. Dinner is always at six 'o clock sharp, so don't be late. I'll be gone to escort some other ladies to their rooms now. Stay here until the dinner bell rings, and when it does, follow the crowd of girls." Miss Griselda informed her.

"Wait," Musa said before she could go. "So you know why I'm here?"

She was kind of hoping Griselda didn't, because she didn't want to be treated differently. At least she was treated normally with a roommate.

"Yes, that's part of my job," Miss Griselda said cooly before she left the room. Musa sat down on her new bed. It was slightly springy but kind of hard.

Already Musa didn't like the feel of this. She felt like she was in a prison. She wasn't claustrophobic but the room had a boxed-in feel to it that she didn't like.

She preoccupied her mind with taking out her clothes from her bags. She didn't bother to fold them; instead she tossed them aisde for now. Musa wanted something of her parents, so she searched through her bag for a picture she had taken from home that showed all three of her family members.

It wasn't there.

Musa began to panic. She didn't have panic attacks or any sort of breakdowns- she wasn't that mentally unstable. She was just panicking because she wanted- no, _needed_- something of her mother.

It came rushing back. _Red, red, red._ The color all over her fingers as she tried to hold her mother. The color her eyes seemed to be glazed over with.

_Tears_. They streaked down her cheeks. Fat, salty tears that never seemed to stop flowing.

_"Mommy!"_ The voice echoed in her head.

Musa opened her eyes. She had closed her eyes and was kneeling over her open suitcase. She took a deep breath, gasping for clean air. She felt as though she was being smothered.

"You are going to fold those, right?" A British voice asked suddenly. Musa's head swiveled to see a girl sitting down on the bed next to hers. She had a bob of pink hair and wide, oceanic blue eyes.

"What?" Musa voiced her confusion.

"Your clothes," The girl's eyes flickered to Musa's pile of clothes that lay strewn on the floor almost disdainfully.

"Maybe," Musa shrugged. She didn't like folding, it consumed too much of her time. Besides, it didn't make sense to fold something you'd only mess up later.

"Let me then." The girl surprised Musa with that. "It won't take long."

"I don't know you," Musa said, slightly weirded out.

"Oh I apologize, do you have Xenophobia or something?" The girl asked. "I'm Tecna. See, now we're not strangers. What's your name?"

"Musa." Musa answered, still slightly appalled at the girl's request. "And no thanks about the folding thing. I'll get around to it."

Tecna narrowed her eyes. For a second she looked kind of evil, but she quickly recovered.

"That won't work. You need to do it now." Tecna said sharply.

"Excuse me?" Musa lifted an eyebrow at Tecna.

"Just let me," Tecna gave a loud sigh before she began to expertly fold Musa's clothes. True to her word, she did it quickly. "Now, how do you order your clothing?"

"I've got it, thanks," Musa said.

"Well I won't have to see if it's inside your dresser, so I guess that's okay," Tecna shrugged.

"Okay." Musa was now very weirded out. What did this girl have? She placed her clothes in her dresser, not caring where they went. She closed the drawers on the large wooden dresser, but one had a slight opening to it. Tecna dove forward and closed it.

Musa stared at her curiously, her dark, almost purple eyes crashing with Tecna's oceanic blue ones.

"I'm not a freak," Tecna said firmly.

"Um, I didn't say anything," Musa said quickly.

"I have Perfectionism, a branch of OCD," Tecna answered Musa's silent question by stating the fact. "I can't deal with anything that's unorderly, that's all."

Well that explained a lot.

"Why are you here, then?" Musa asked. "That seems normal."

Maybe not normal, but more normal than PTSD, anyway.

"It's a 'mental' disease," Tecna said, emphasizing "mental" like it was a key word. "Therefore, I can be placed here. And since my parents don't want to deal with my constant need to be perfect, they shipped me here."

"Oh," was all Musa could say.

"If you don't mind me asking, what are you here for?" Tecna asked. Well she wasn't shy. "I'm pretty sure you can't have Xenophobia because you'd be scared out of your mind of me."

"I have post traumatic stress disorder," Musa said. "My Dad couldn't take me with him on some business trip so he placed me here."

"You're one of them, are you?" Tecna looked interested.

"One of them?" Musa echoed.

"The really mental ones," Tecna didn't looked scared; she looked impressed.

"I'm not mental," Musa said stubbornly.

"I like you," Tecna said suddenly. "I'm glad you're my roommate and not some other freaky girl. I mean, it may sound rude and all, but you actually have sense in your head."

"Thanks." Musa said. "I'm glad you're my roommate too." She hadn't know what to say, so she opted to tell Tecna she liked her as a roommate as well. Truthfully though, she was kind of worried about spending time with someone who craved perfection.

A shrill bell cut off their thoughts.

"That doesn't trigger anything for you, does it?" Tecna was watching Musa carefully.

"Not _everything_ triggers me," Musa said hotly. "That's the dinner bell, so we need to go."

"I didn't mean to be rude." Tecna mumbled under her breath. "Well, alright then, let's go."

Musa led her roommate outside where they followed a crowd of girls walking through the small corridor. Some girl screamed. Probably someone who had fear of small places or overcrowded ones.

It scared Musa to think of it.

The dining room was a large, grand room with white walls and golden chandeliers. Long and narrow wooden tables were lined next to each other. Plates were already served and waiting. Musa took a seat next to Tecna, grateful for having her roommate there.

Another girl sat down next to Musa. She had long, light brown hair and green eyes. She looked a little shy.

"Hi." Musa said before she could stop herself. The girl looked shocked to hear Musa speaking to her, but she offered Musa a soft smile.

"Hi," The girl whispered, pushing her hair over her shoulder shyly.

"I'm Musa," Musa quickly followed up.

"Hi Musa, I'm Flora," Flora smiled even brighter. Her voice, though soft, was angelic and sweet. "Are you new here? I don't believe I've ever seen you before."

"Yeah," Musa said. "How long have you been here?"

"Just a few months," Flora said nonchalantly. "The food's pretty good. Just be careful of the second Wednesday of every month; they always serve mystery meat and it's just gross."

Flora then began to eat away at the plate of food in front of her. Musa let her eyes fall on the plate. It was some kind of stew made with chicken and vegetables. Musa shrugged and began to eat as well.

It was pretty good for prison food.

Tecna ate in a slow manner, making sure her spoon filled with the right amount of stew every time and that no drop spilled. In a way, Musa found her strive for perfection fun to watch.

"Ladies," An elderly woman stood before the room, making almost every girl turn to stare at the interruption. Despite being stared at by troubled girls, the woman had a bright smile. "I'm Miss Faragonda, the owner of this fine institution."

Fine? As if a madhouse could be called "fine."

"There are some rules I'd like to go over," Miss Faragonda said, her smile looking as though it was glued to her face. "First of all, there are to be no fights. If you do not agree with your roommate, find Miss Griselda and we shall find a solution. Also, there is to be no leaving the grounds on any circumstances. Vacations from Alfea are only to be had on your legal guardian's account. No meeting with the boys from Red Fountain institute."

As if any crazy girl would try to hook up with another mental patient.

"And I'm sure you're all aware that school is to be held here," Miss Griselda cut in. From the girls there came some confused looks, and one girl groaned loudly.

"For those who are up to it," Faragonda interjected. "If your illness is severe you will not have to. And now, just one more thing for you ladies. You're all here for a reason. No one is better than anyone else. Be kind to each other. Now, enjoy your meal."

The girls turned away and kept eating. The place was mostly silent, save the clinking of spoons against the dishes and some quiet chatter among girls who seemed to know each other.

Musa almost wished someone would go crazy.

"You're all too quiet! Where's the talk about boys and fashion that all teenage girls have to have?" A girl suddenly exclaimed loudly. Almost every pair of eyes turned to her. The girl was a blond with a pouty look. She was also the girl who had groaned at the mention of school.

"Stella, please don't cause distractions," Griselda grumbled. The blond girl huffed, crossing her arms angrily.

After that it was just awkward. The little chatter that once existed had died after Stella's outburst. No one dared to laugh at Stella, but Musa giggled softly at how silent it fell.

"Musa, don't laugh!" Tecna cried suddenly, breaking the silence. "It sounds so imperfect along with the silence!" A few girls near them stared at Tecna silently, but they quickly fell back to eating.

So this was how it was. Someone has an outburst. Everyone stares. Then go back like nothing happened.

"Sorry, Tecna," Musa said apologetically as she finished the last of her stew. Tecna didn't answer. She was too busy concentrating on measuring another spoonful of stew.

"You can get seconds if you're still hungry," Flora informed Musa. "We're not in prison or anything."

"It's fine," Musa shrugged. "So, what do we do when we finish?"

"Everyone can leave and go back to their rooms," Flora said, "or of course, they can hang out on the lawn with the other girls. Not many girls do that though because they hardly know anyone outside of their roommates."

"Hmm," Musa nodded, but she didn't make a mental note of it. Hanging out with the other girls didn't seem like an option at the moment.

Flora looked away from Musa, looking slightly deflated. Musa stared at her for a few seconds. Flora seemed shy and sheltered...why was she here?

"Lead me to our room, please, Musa," Tecna said, surprising Musa at her odd request. "I can't leave a room; leaving behind my empty seat looks so...wrong. So I need to close my eyes. You don't mind, do you?"

Sure, trust someone you met a few minutes ago.

"Okay," Musa said. Tecna closed her eyes. Musa awkwardly began to tug the girl back to their room after waving good-bye to Flora. Flora gave her a shy smile before she continued to eat.

But she kind of had no idea where it was.

"Are we out of the dining room yet?" Tecna asked as she let Musa lead her away.

"Yes." Musa replied.

"Good. Let me walk in front of you." Tecna said. "Just stay behind me. Since we were the first to leave, the hall will look perfect. With all the girls filing to dinner it looked fine, but seeing you there would kill the mood." Musa dropped her hand from Tecna's arm and let Tecna lead the way, relieved and not at all offended.

"I have a photographic memory," Tecna explained suddenly. She wasn't boasting; she was reassuring Musa why she knew the way to their room.

"That'll come in handy," Musa remarked, but in reality she wanted to smack her forehead at how awkward she was being.

She had no idea if she could deal with Tecna's antics and if Tecna could deal with hers. Were they paired randomly or to fit their mental illnesses?

"Here." Tecna said, spotting their door. She opened it. "Now walk in at the same time I do. It will look better."

_Look better for who?_ Musa thought, but she obliged. Tecna sat down on her bed with a sigh, obviously glad to be resting. She hooked her legs over the bed posts and kicked off her shoes, but she then arranged them side by side under her bed.

"So, how long have you had perfectionism?" Musa asked without thinking. "I mean, how did everyone find out that you have something like that?"

Musa didn't known how her father decided she had PTSD. Maybe it was the nightmares and the several times she remembered her mother's death very vividly that made her father ask someone to look at her.

"I don't know. I guess when I was young I'd freak out if things were out of order. My parents were naturally sloppy, so I'd cry a lot. They took me to a psychologist or something, and that's how they found out." Tecna replied, looking not at all offended. "How about you? When did you get it?"

"I've had it since I was five," Musa said softly. "My...my mother died when I was five."

"I'm so sorry Musa," Tecna said gently, her oceanic blue eyes full of sympathy.

"It's okay." Musa gave her a watery smile. "I think I just want to sleep right now."

"Alright." Tecna didn't press for any details. Instead Musa watched as Tecna took out a book to read and arranged herself right in the middle of her bed.

With a sigh, Musa laid down on her bed, feeling very out of place. She let tears fall again, this time onto the beige covers, her back to Tecna. It seemed almost scary to be there in a house full of mental people. But it wasn't the fear of being among these girls that scared Musa.

It was the thought of being one herself.

**Chapter done! And shorter than I thought. Maybe they'll get longer with due time...I don't know. Anyway, thank you for reading! Please review if you liked it. And if you didn't...yeah, I didn't either. **


End file.
